The Untold Story of Ella Tremaine
by vruru98
Summary: We all think Cinderella is sweet, innocent, and couldn't survive without food for two weeks. Think again. Rated T for language and Violence
1. THe thoughts before the Dawn

Recently I find that most of my thoughts consist of the words _Take it or leave it._ I am forced to wake up once every hour because I'm the only one without thick, sound-blocking curtains on their windows-_Take it or leave it._ I actually have to get up at 4:00am just to get all my chores done in time-_Take it or leave it _A horse bites my hand while I'm feeding it-_Take it or leave it._ On and on this continues throughout the day, until it's time to go to sleep at 11:00, only to wake up again in an hour. Again_, Take it or leave it._

You probably think my life sucks, and I will be the first to confirm your suspicions, but all I can say is, it could be worse. I could have a dreadful name, like my sisters, Anastasia and Drizella. I mean, come on. That's just nasty. My name is pretty. Ella Tremaine. Of course, if you ask Anastasia or Drizella, they would tell you that my name is _Cinder_ella, because I am always covered head-to-toe in soot. They told me that that's how I came into the world, but I know that that's not true. I have a picture to prove it.

This little painting sits on my armoire, right next to some lovely flowers that I had found while tending to the garden. I'm wearing a beautiful, handmade dress made of lace and blue silk. My hair has a white ribbon in it, tied in a bow, with the slightest bit of shine in it. My mother, Cassandra Hollbrooke (as that was before she had died of the croup and my dad remarried Lady Tremaine), was at my right, wearing a lovely lavender bonnet encasing a head full of curls, with a matching gown with ruffles. My father was there too, but he just wore brown, which hardly complimented his handsome, sharp features.

That was a good time. My mother was still alive, for one matter. She wasn't even sick. I was four at the time, I think, and as cute as a button, if I do say so myself. I'm not so cute anymore. Emilia, my other step-sister, the only one that actually likes me, says that I would be absolutely fetching if I just washed all of the ashes off. You see, I'm always covered in something dirty, as I have stated before. It's dreadful really. Even now, in my dreams, I'm dreadfully dirty. You must be thinking, _her father is still alive, why doesn't he do something about it?_ Well I'll tell you why not. He died. He was trampled by his own horse right in front of me, when I was only seven years old.

When my papa and Lady Tremaine first got married, Papa told me something very important. A rule that I still abide by today. He told his young daughter, only five years old, that one day, and it will happen, if his wife, ever tells his young Ella to do some nasty, cruel, dirty work, just do it with a nod and a "Yes ma'am." He said to just keep doing that until he found out about it. Looking back, that wasn't foolish. It shows that I will still be polite and respectful, no matter how hard you push me. Of course, he probably thought I would only have to do one thing, and, because I told him everything, she wouldn't ever ask me to do such thing. Look at the good that did.

_Ding! _Oh no. Please don't tell me this will strike four.

_Ding!_ No! It can't be time! I couldn't bear to get up! No! I won't do it!

_Ding! _I swear, I won't let that wretched old lady have her way this time! It will not happen! Will not!

_Ding! _Okay. Time to feed the hogs.


	2. Good Morning

After I got in to my clothing, it was time to make the infamous transformation from Ella to Cinderella. With nothing but the mice to keep me company, for not even Emilia, who was treated like a maid for being nice to me, was awake, I began my daily duties.

The first thing I do after I get out of my bedroom is trip down the stairs. Silly Ella has forgotten her candle again. So I stumble back up to get it. How will the rest of my day go? I can only imagine.

Emilia wakes up two hours after I do, and when I come back from tending to the animals she is in the kitchen.

"Hi Emilia! What's on the menu today?" I ask her hungrily as I lounge in the maid's dining room, which is really just a table with two chairs in the kitchen.. I can clean and cater and wash and organize, but I couldn't cook to save my life. That's what Emilia's for. Well, other than to being my friend of course.

"Hey Ella. It's porridge as always." Emilia sighs out. Poor girl. She gets fed the same as I do, and no one deserves that.

"Emilia," I begin, "you are the cook of this household, are you not?"

"Yes Ella, you know I am." She knows exactly where I'm going with this.

"If you are the cook, why can't you make yourself what you give to your sisters and mother? I mean, it's absolutely nonsense what you put yourself through, eating the same food as me. Go on, make yourself French toast with maple syrup, or eggs and bacon, or whatever your great big heart desires."

"Ella, you know I can't do that." She says hesitantly. "And besides, you wouldn't want to be the only one eating porridge with no cream or sugar. I can't let you be the only one who hasn't legally eaten a strawberry with their breakfast since you were seven."

"And why not?" I yell, standing up quickly form my wooden chair, toppling it over. "Emilia, you are no match for Anastasia, Drizella, or even your own Mother! You know why? Because you, my dear, are better than them! You are kinder, more wonderful, more tasteful, more…"

"Ella, you're food is done."

"Oh. Alright then. But you should take my advice. You really should."

"Ella, how in the worl would I be able to fallow your advice!" If I did runoff and do great things, how in the world would you be able to eat? In addition to my argument, I don't even know where to go. There's no place for me. Simple as that."

"Oh, but I know where you can go," I begin, then stop abruptly, seeing if I caught her attention. I obviously have, as she has stopped her cooking and turned around. "There's a ball that the prince is hosting on Monday. I heard Anastasia talking about it while I did her hair yesterday morning. She said that I could go to as long as I finished my chores early. But I don't want to go."

"Really?" Emilia turns back to her cooking so the toast won't burn. "Why not? You're definitely pretty enough to get a dance with him."

"Thank you. I just don't want to get sucked up into the prince, the way your sisters have. Drizella gets nervous if you just mention the word Prince. Anyway, I was thinking that maybe you should go to the ball. I could do your chores for you and make you a dress the night before. It would be wonderful!"

"Ella."

"Yes?"

"Get your apron."

Oh, now it's time to feed the _other _pigs.

As I started to deliver the wonderful breakfasts that the _real_ Tremaines get to eat, I began to think about the prince. He certainly did have a certain attractive air about him when I saw him at the yearly winter festival, and he always did seem to look at me whenever I passed. But that was just a coincidence. No, he's definitely not attracted to-

"Cinderella watch where you're going!" Anastasia yelled at me.

I had somehow wound up on the floor, coated in sticky syrup from her French toast. She did that on purpose. Opened the door just as I was outside it, causing her food to spill over me.

"Now look what you've done! You just make your way back to the kitchen and get me some more food, you insolent liitle brat." She spat out the words as if I were vermin. "The nerve." She cackled as she closed the door and went back into her room.

I ran down the stairs crying.

"Ella, are you okay? What happened? What are you covered in?" Emilia's concerned questions almost made it seem like it would be okay, that someone really did love me. Almost.

I handed her the empty breakfast tray and she suddenly was filled with understanding. She wasn't sympathetic anymore. Now she was livid.

"Ella Kate Tremaine, you always ask me why I put up with my family, and you're about to get the same teaching."

I sniffled and looked up at her. "Oh yeah? What do you expect me to do? You could stand up to them. You may not act like the rest of your family, but you are a real Tremaine! I'm just an intruder with no way out. You actually have a chance. What have I got? That's right, nothing." I burst into tears again.

"Ella," Emilia gets close to me and looks me in the eye. "Ella, you need to go to the ball."


End file.
